Limbo
by funnybia
Summary: Simmons isn't there when Fitz wakes up. Fitz isn't there when Simmons goes on a mission. While they think they are alone and surrounded in darkness, they find a light in themselves and in unexpected people that show them, while they are still FitzSimmons, they can also be just Fitz and just Simmons.
1. Chapter 1

**Thoughts About Death**

Everything was happening so fast that if she blinked she was sure she'd miss it. It was funny because whenever she tried to recall that instant in her head, after it was all over, it would play out in slow motion.

She was surprised she didn't die of a heart attack. She was surprised that she was able to move when it all happened. There were only two things that could have saved her and she wasn't really sure she believed in god so that left only one.

The water came rushing in. She had to use the air tank and make it up to the surface; that's all her mind allowed her to think of as the water burst through the window. Not that thinking that made any sort of a difference; she only had enough time to put the mask on her mouth before the water blew her back. And she was going to die, she knew it, in that split second she knew what the impact of her head against the wall would do. And all that talk about your life passing through your eyes was just bull shit. The only thing she could see was water and the only thing she could think was 'I'm going to die'. Not that it was exactly a thought at all; it was more like a notion. Like when you see a basketball you don't think 'oh, it's round' because it's so obvious. That's what it meant, seeing death, she didn't think 'I'm going to die'; she knew it.

Except she didn't. She didn't hit the hard wall and she didn't get knocked unconscious. Instead she was blown right onto Fitz. After that she ceased thinking completely. In a high risk moment thinking is unnecessary, you need to do things without thinking or else you will panic and you will hesitate and you will die. When she was out of the container she remembered Fitz. It took her only a split second to realize she already had him. She had grabbed him, she didn't remember it, but she had him. Did she even remember using the oxygen tank? It was strange how everything was so automatic, and how during that moment she didn't think once about the possibility of dying. She just kept at it, kept going.

But afterwards, after it was over, it just didn't process in her mind. She should have died, it didn't make sense. She remembered watching this suspense movie with Fitz and commenting on the impossibility of someone holding their breath underwater for that long in such an intense situation. In a normal situation holding your breath for that long was absurd, let alone in a situation where your heart is beating extremely fast and your body is quickly spending all of its' oxygen. She was completely hurt and bruised from the blast, her heart felt like it would stop, her eyes were burning from the salt, the water was freezing and it _should_ have slowed down her movements, her ears were ringing from the pressure, her lungs and head felt like they were going to burst and she was carrying a body. A body! A _whole_ other person. 90 feet! Possibly more. How? Why?

When she reached the surface: _then_ she thought she was going to die. She could probably live longer if she let go of Fitz, but she didn't once consider that. She knew they were going to die like that and yet she still kept trying. How stupid; to try when it's so futile. But she lived. She was alive; Fitz was alive and for some reason she didn't feel the victory, the relief. There was a catch, there was always a catch; Fitz would never be the same.

* * *

There you have it, Chapter 1! Thoughts? Opinions? Well, this this chapter was really only Jemma's thoughts...but expect some dialogue next chapter. :) Edited: I put the title of this chapter on the top, guess I was too tired yesterday and ended up forgetting. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A Conversation With The Director**

Nick Fury looked at her - she was in the medical container – and told her he had located Coulson thanks to her. Right, thank goodness, she thought. A man - most certainly a doctor - walked in the room carrying a clip board.

"Sir." He walked up to Fury, looked tentatively at Simmons and then drove his attention towards the Director.

"It's about the patient." He said in a hushed voice.

"Is it about Fitz? Please tell me." The man side glanced at her; there was a flash of sorrow in his face before he turned to Fury questioningly. Fury nodded.

"Go ahead." There was a warning glance that came along with that: "be careful with what you say", it said. The doctor nodded and looked down at his clip board.

"Patient Leopold Fitz...we've managed to stabilize him." He had to phrase this carefully. "He has a few injuries, but-"

"What injuries?" The man cursed inwardly. He let out a small shaky breath and looked at her cautiously, then looked at Fury with a grim expression that she probably couldn't see from that angle and finally set his eyes back on the clip board. It would be ok, he thought, as long as she didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Now wasn't that time to explain anything in detail to her. No, she had to be resting and not worrying about this. He inhaled.

"A broken arm-"She nodded, of course, a broken arm, she knew that much.

"A few broken ribs and his skull has a small fracture too-"She turned to look at the ceiling.

"So head force trauma and hypoxic encephalopathy." She said it more to herself than she did to the two of them.

"Yeah..." The doctor looked at her curiously. This was awful, she thought, head trauma and hypoxia are bad enough by themselves...

"Does that include an epidural hematoma?" She asked, still looking at the ceiling, trying hard to breathe after the shocking news.

"Are you a doctor?" The man asked surprised.

"A PHD." She said annoyed, in a tone that clearly stated "does this _really_ matter right now?" She waited for him to answer her question, but he didn't and she realized he was waiting for _her_ to continue. She huffed impatiently and told him what her two PHDs were for. Both of them looked at her with eyebrows raised.

"Try saying _that_ five times fast." Fury said to the doctor. Normally Simmons would be thrilled at even the _thought_ of impressing the Director of SHIELD, but right now she didn't much care. She felt empty. She looked at the doctor with a grave expression, pushing him to answer her question. Slowly he nodded.

"He went through surgery a few hours ago." She looked at the ceiling and clenched her teeth. This was bad.

"For now we're going to keep monitoring him."

"Has he had any seizures?" Her voice was so quiet, so subdued; she was trying her best to keep herself from breaking down and crying. She held her breath.

"Yes." Simmons shut her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She stayed like that for a few seconds before shooting her eyes open and focusing her vision on the top of the medical container. She had to get out of there. Her heart was beating fast as she glanced at all of the corners of the container looking for a way out. Fury took a step toward her.

"I know what you're thinking and I already told you, you need to _stay_ there." He pointed at the doctor but kept his gaze on her.

"If you want, I can ask the nice doctor over there to say _exactly_ why you need to _stay in this container_." He was now pointing at the container. She held his gaze for a few seconds before turning back towards the ceiling.

Now it was the doctor who took a step towards Simmons (though he wasn't right in front of the container like Fury). He felt terribly guilty, not for the condition of the patient, mind you, they were trying their best, but for her knowing his condition. If he had known she had extensive medical knowledge he wouldn't have even come in this room, he would have waited to fill Fury in later. Well, that ship had sailed and maybe, instead of treating this situation as the rather unfortunate one that it was, he could treat it as an opportunity. She already knew the patient's condition, nothing could change that, so there was nothing really holding him back from asking…then again, he knew he would be risking her mental state, but right now Leopold Fitz was his top priority.

"If you really want to help…" His face was pointedly facing the clip board he was holding, but his eyes were looking up at her.

"You could give me any information you have on Agent Fitz's medical history." She had turned her head slightly to the side, to show that she was listening, but she didn't look at him, afraid she would catch Director Fury's penetrating gaze.

"Some information on his past and his personality would also be helpful-" The doctor said, this time looking straight at her. He knew she was going to ask and if he didn't answer she would probably guess correctly, so he didn't bother stopping.

"—so we can watch out for amnesia or any personality changes." Jemma was hyperventilating, pinching her nose with her right hand as hard as she could as she tried desperately not to cry. The Director gave him a look that was somewhere between shock and a death glare. Why the _**hell**_ would you say that to someone about their friend, Fury thought? The doctor continued looking at Simmons.

"I know this is a lot to take in." Fury put his right hand on his hip and opened his eyes wide, looking at the doctor with an incredulous expression that said "Oh you know, do you?" The doctor continued.

"But we'll need all the information we can get so we can take care of Leopold Fitz when he wakes up." Jemma calmed her breathing and turned around to look at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again.

"I'd rather do that myself." She didn't mean to sound cold, but she knew it had come out that way. Fury turned to her direction and pinched his nose with his left hand. Damn, why do things have to get so complicated? He should be out there trying to reach his man Coulson. He took a deep breath and stopped pinching his nose. Really, he should have told that doctor to keep his mouth shut, but it was too late for that, now he might as well go along with it.

"Simmons." She didn't look up at him.

"Simmons…I need you to look at me." It was the softest his tone could go. She looked at him, her expression showing a mix of fatigue and despair.

"You need to stay in there for the next couple hours, _at least_. No one is going to let you out until you're cleared. You know that." She looked down momentarily before returning her gaze to him.

"What if Fitz wakes up during that time? Wouldn't you feel a _lot_ more comfortable knowing that the doctors who are going to take care of him have all the information they need to do it?" She looked down again, for a while she just didn't respond, then, very slowly, she nodded. She lay down on her back, once again looking up at the ceiling, and folded her hands on her stomach.

"Medical history…" She whispered, biting her bottom lip as she tried to remember anything.

"His mum has diabetes. I'm not sure about his dad…I think he had hypertension." Her voice was very soft.

"I don't know if he has a tendency for either one of those. Although…with the amount that he eats, if he hasn't developed one of them I doubt he ever will…" There was a tiny bit of humor in that last comment; it was a joke, he could still develop those diseases later on in life, since, technically, eating certain amounts of food raises the probability, but doesn't determine it. She shook her head and sighed. What else, she thought?

"His left arm…he mentioned in the container-" She stopped talking. The container.

Everything that had happened before the window explosion raged through her head, hitting her as hard as the water. Ward. Fitz. Their conversation. Her idea. The oxygen tank. His confession. The kisses. His smile. Her scream. Everything came rushing through and she tried hard to process it all, to absorb it, to understand. Ward did that… They were going to die. Fitz pushed the button. He was _in love_ with her?

Two taps on the glass woke her up; she had been staring into nothing for almost a whole minute.

"Simmons, you need to _breathe_." Came Nick Fury's authoritative voice and she immediately started breathing, completely unaware that she had even stopped. Jemma opened her mouth to continue, still a bit distraught, but Fury raised his right hand and she closed her mouth. He nodded in approval.

"Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and _take your time_." She did as he said; with her jaw clenched she focused on controlling her breathing. Fury turned his head and looked at the doctor with a grave expression; his eyes flicked to the doctor, then to Simmons, then back again. The doctor nodded solemnly, in agreement. Simmons inhaled deeply and opened her eyes.

"In the container…" She began, trying to keep her breath steady. Both men turned their attention to her.

"He said he had broken his arm in the same two places he had broken it in second grade." The doctor took a pen from his lab coat and started writing something on his clip board. Jemma shook her head.

"That's about all I know." She made a mental note to get the medical history of everyone on the team. Then something clicked: The team. She looked at Fury, a gleam of panic in her eyes; wasn't he going to help them; didn't he have to go; was she keeping him? She considered telling him that he needed to go, but she thought better; of course he was aware of this, no, not just that: he wasn't going to leave until she finished. Why; what did she matter?

And it hit her that Nick Fury was just that sort of guy, just that sort of leader. Not much different from Coulson, she thought, or maybe she had it backwards: Coulson wasn't that different from Nick Fury.

The Director…if he was waiting for her to talk, than she had to go quickly. She set her gaze back to the ceiling and began telling them all the important points of Fitz's past. She started with the year he was born – startling both the doctor and the Director because she hadn't given any warning that she was going to start talking – and continued on to the rest of his life. It didn't take that long; it was really only the basic things. Every once in a while she would disrupt her _very_ objective biography of him to throw in a comment or two, but other than that her words and sentences would come out in a continuous flow, as if she'd memorized it all or rehearsed it before. Jemma finished and took a deep breath. She didn't say anything too detailed, just the things that were important to know if they were watching out for any sign of amnesia. For some reason talking about Fitz calmed her down, half-way through, her voice didn't seem so subdued and by the time she was done she was using her normal tone of voice (although it still had a hint of vulnerability in it). She was still looking at the ceiling; it just felt easier for her, not having to face anyone, pretending she was just talking, maybe to herself, maybe in an interview. It didn't have to mean anything. She sighed.

"His personality…well…he mumbles…a lot. Loud enough for you to hear if you're not too far…mostly about his 'unappreciated genius'." She rolled her eyes.

"He's funny. I mean…not that he tries, really, he just is." She studied the scratches on the glass incasing her as she thought of what to say next.

"He hates any sort of dead animal. I mean, every once in a while I bring one into the lab, and he _always_ complains, but it has to do with my area and eventually I'll have to dissect _something_. It can't be helped, it's science and it's not like I work with machines like he does and I _swear_, he just never lets go of that _bloody_ cat and I'll admit that I did leave his liver next Fitz's lunch, but it's not like I saw the lunch and thought that I'd _deliberately_ leave the cat liver there and anyway it's a lab, I always tell him that he can't bring food there whereas, I'm _allowed_ to bring dead animals there so _technically_ it _was_ his fault." She drew a quick and shaky breath and covered her mouth as the water in her eyes threatened to spill. She closed her eyes and as the tears silently slipped past her nose and down her cheeks she continued in a softer tone.

"He's very patient, but _very_ stubborn." She opened her teary eyes and this time she wasn't looking at the ceiling or the glass – the water in her eyes were way too blurry for her to see – , she just focused her attention on the blurs, that way, she didn't really have to look at anything. When she opened her mouth again, her voice came out as subdued as before, this time, though, there was a certain amount of affection in it.

"He's not very patient when he's in stress, though arguably no one is. He's very brave. He's the type of person who will never leave your side." Her voice cracked at that last word and she closed her eyes as a new wave of tears came sweeping down her cheeks.

"Agent Simmons…thank you, that's enough." The doctor said quietly, not wanting her to push herself any more than she already had.

"He hates change…" She hadn't heard him. She opened her eyes, but the tears continued to slip down making her vision even blurrier than it was before.

"He can't talk to a beautiful woman for the life of him." She let out a small laugh. Jemma looked at Director Fury – theoretically of course, she couldn't actually see him since there was a pool of water in the way – and continued.

"Well, at least the first time he meets her." She said with a small smile.

"Oh, and he likes monkeys." Director Fury raised an eyebrow at this.

"Monkeys?"

"Yes." She said with a slightly bigger smile, still looking at Fury as she wiped away her tears with her right hand.

"I don't know what's so amazing about them either, I mean, sure, if it were a snake or a spider, but a monkey?" She laughed again and laid her right arm across her abdomen.

"And almost every single mission he's mentioned how a monkey could help…" She rolled her eyes, but kept smiling; a vulnerable, teary smile. Her smile slowly dissipated.

"He especially likes small monkeys-" She said softly.

"Director Fury…" She interrupted herself, looking up at him.

"I think you should go." She knew she was pushing it by telling the Director of SHIELD that he had to go, but she couldn't afford to hold him up any longer.

"Agent Coulson, and everyone…I want everything to turn out ok… or else what happened-" Director Fury nodded and gave her a very small half smile.

"You gonna stay in there?" Jemma gave a small, guilty smile.

"Yes."

"Good." Nick Fury gave her his last warning glance before he turned around and walked away.

"Remember, when you need to, close your eyes, take a deep breath and _take your time_."

Jemma watched him as he left. Somewhere in that small gap between them there was a silent 'thank you' from Jemma and a lingering promise from Nick Fury. She turned toward the ceiling for one last time, closed her eyes and with the last of her tears slipping away, she fell into a deep sleep.

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Alright, there's chapter 2, what did you guys think?


	3. Chapter 3

**The Light Corner**

Silence; in the dark office that looked surprisingly similar to Coulson's office on the Bus there was but one word circulating its interior, defining every second that passed and engulfing the two figures that currently resided within it. Even when words were spoken the silence would be ever present, forcing those words to get lost in it.

The new found director sat on the chair with his elbows on his desk and his hands folded, covering his mouth. The Cavalry was in front of his desk, near the right side corner, standing with her hands folded behind her back.

"It doesn't feel right to go on without him." Director Coulson had put his folded hands underneath his chin so that his voice wouldn't come out muffled. The words lingered in the air and replayed itself in their minds. They were incomplete; they tugged at the corner of his mouth, imploring him to say more. The silence was overpowering, though, and nothing more was said.

May waited and when she was certain that he wouldn't continue, she decided to break the silence.

"We don't have a choice; everyone needs to move on…" She fixed her eyes on his, even though he wasn't looking at her, and tilted her head very slightly, narrowing her eyes for just a split second in recognition, almost as if she had just noticed him.

"…and so do you." She said as another wave of silence buried them. Coulson didn't move an inch; instead he kept looking at the darkness in front of him, studying every single aspect he could of the emptiness that surrounded what was supposed to be the rest of the room. There was something wrong with the electrical circuits and all of the lights in the room were out with the exception of the incandescent light bulb glowing faintly at the corner of the room near Phil's left side. It was enough so that he could see everything on his desk and May's silhouette in front of him. He should really get Fitz to fix that, he thought.

Agent May searched his eyes for something akin to understanding, acknowledgment or recognition, but nothing. She waited for him to speak, but that went nowhere either. Her eyes hardened slightly before she spoke.

"I know when you lose someone it feels like the world should stop-"

"He's not gone." Interrupted Coulson, flicking his eyes to hers before returning it to the darkness. For once May couldn't read him, not completely, but she didn't have to, to know what to say. The silence gave her more than enough time to think it through.

"No." She affirmed, agreeing with him, she walked a few steps to the side so that she was right in front of his desk, blocking his view from the darkness and forcing him to look at her. He moved his eyes to meet hers, but stayed in the exact same position.

"But right now he is." She finished. This time Coulson lifted his head up; there was a faint glow of hope in his eyes.

"When he wakes up-"

"We don't know that he will." She interrupted. Coulson placed his folded hands – which were near his chin – on the table.

"But if-"

"_Then_ we'll worry about it." May interrupted once again. Coulson put his folded hands in front of his mouth and stared down at them as May walked toward the left corner of the table and placed her right hand there. Her body was facing the left side corner of the room – the one near Coulson's right side – but her head was turned to him. Nothing was said for a few agonizing seconds. It was usually comfortable for them; the silence, but there was something menacing about this one, something lurking in the darkness, in the blank space of nothing threatening to consume them and it wasn't the silence, it wasn't the darkness: it was the thoughts it brought out; the ones that were constantly creeping at the edge of their minds, the ones they had to lock up, ones about darkness and writings and betrayals and death, things that didn't have a place for the present, that would have to wait to resurface.

"Phil…" She waited for him to look at her before she continued. He placed his chin on his hand and turned his head just enough to be able to see her from the side.

"You're the director now." She turned around to face him completely, keeping her right hand at the corner of his desk.

"That means that when the world is breaking, you need to be the one to piece it back together and keep everyone from falling apart." Coulson turned back toward the darkness, he shifted his chin on his hands to find a better position to support his head and bit onto his bottom lip.

"I know." He tilted his head a bit to the side and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not an easy job." His tone was lighter; there was a bit of humor to it.

"Fury wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't think you could do it. And even if he _had_, I know you wouldn't have accepted." As the director stayed there, thinking, May walked back to his left side, at the front of the desk.

"We had our week to wait, and to mourn, now you need to let go and we need to move on." After she had finished speaking, May looked from Coulson to the phone – the one on the right side of his desk, near his left hand – and then back again, clenching her jaws and tilting her head expectantly at him.

Coulson nodded, he placed his right palm flat on the surface of his desk and his left hand on the phone.

"You're right." May visibly relaxed the muscles on her face and let out a sigh.

"But are you sure about this?" The Director of SHIELD said, gesturing toward the phone with a tilt of his head. Agent May nodded ever so slightly, her jaws clenched momentarily as she gave him a look of determination and certainty.

"If anyone can help us…" She nodded toward the phone.

"…_she_ can." Director Coulson tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

"I know you two aren't exactly on speaking terms."

"We know how to separate our personal lives from our professional ones." The Director nodded. He picked up the phone and started dialing.

"Besides…" Coulson looked up at May as she spoke, moving his head up minimally as he held the phone to his right ear.

"…this wouldn't be the first time I'd be asking her for a favor."

* * *

Alright, alright, I know, no Fitz or Simmons in this chapter (please don't kill me!), but I needed to set some groundwork first. Anyway, I also wanted to show how some of the other characters are dealing with things before I REALLY get into Fitz's and Simmons' POV. And yeah... this chapter was even darker than the last one and I really tried to portray the silence in it, but it's hard to portray silence with words so I hope I did a decent job at least :) Also, I'm sure you guys have noticed that there's a time gap between this chapter and the last one and I'll answer exactly how much time passed next chapter, since part of it happens simaltaneous to this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Intervention**

The Cheeriest, most smiley, most talkative people were sitting on a wooden bench in a well-lit hallway with blank faces on, not uttering a word. To their left was a medical room; Trip was nearest to it sitting at the edge of the bench (not that the bench had an edge exactly; both its ends were attached to the wall) with his back straight and his hands on his legs. Sky was sitting near Trip's right side, leaning forward with her hands folded in front of her. Both were deep in thought.

"You know, I once watched this movie where someone said that when two people are able to have a comfortable moment of silence, you know they're close." Trip said looking at Skye with a humorous half-smile etched on his face. Skye responded with a small smile of her own, looking almost apologetic.

"I don't feel very comfortable." She said rather awkwardly, but trying not to insult him. His smile mimicked hers as he raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"Me neither." He said comically, as if he was saying "we should probably start talking" and they chuckled softly. Apparently long moments of silence were not their thing. Skye looked sadly at the medical room.

"Fitz is going to be alright." Said Trip, sympathetically. Skye looked at the floor.

"I'd like to believe that." The soft beeping of the machines filled their ears, making for a less awkward silence.

"Everyone's doing the best they can for him." Trip said looking at the medical room through the corner of his eyes.

"He's in good hands." He continued, this time turning his head to look at Skye.

"To tell you the truth, I'm more worried about Simmons." Skye nodded in agreement and both of them looked at the hallway in front of them, the one that, among other places, lead up to the lab. Skye raised her eyebrows and inhaled.

"Yeah… You know, after six days of crying I thought it was good that she finally stopped...like she was getting through it…but this is a whole new _level_ of grief." She shook her head and once again raised her eyebrows.

"It's been _four_ days…if it goes on like this; I think I'll seriously forget what her voice sounds like." Skye gestured with her hands as she spoke. Trip just nodded silently.

"She's not eating correctly…" Skye said quietly, shaking her head.

"Come to think of it, I can't even _remember_ the last time she ate." Said Skye, a little bit louder as she waved her hands around for emphasis.

"Or slept." Added Trip, giving Skye a concerned look. Skye nodded.

"_Yeah_." She said incredulously.

"I mean...I know, obviously, that she _has_ been eating and sleeping, but it's _clearly_ not enough." Skye said in a loud tone of voice. Trip responded with a stern look that said "don't talk so loud".

"And **_what in the _****_world_****-!" **Trip gave her another warning glance, looking from her to the hall in front of them; "she'll hear you" was the evident message.

"_What in the world _is she doing in that lab that she can't stop for like, five seconds?" Skye had lowered her tone to a whisper. Agent Triplett shrugged.

"I don't know I haven't got the chance to ask her…" He said quietly as he looked at the hall in front of him. Skye nodded and sat there in the silence racking her brain, trying to figure out what Simmons could be doing in the lab, until a disturbing thought came to her.

"You don't think she's creating another miracle drug?" Skye looked at Trip with the distressed expression a deer might give a car's headlights. Trip looked at her and turned his head to the side, giving her a doubtful look.

"I don't think so, there's nothing to create a miracle drug _from_ and there's no more GH325."

"Right…Coulson said they managed to make some for Garrett, but he used it all…" Trip nodded.

"But still…" Skye continued. "I'm sure Simmons could come up with _something_, and it would make sense why she spends so much time in the lab hardly taking to us…and I mean would you really put it past her to do it?"

"Simmons is smart, she _could_ do it…" Skye gave Trip an "_exactly, that's what I'm saying_" look.

"But she wouldn't." He continued. Skye looked at him in confusion.

"_Because_ Simmons is smart she knows that whatever she synthesized in that lab…" He nodded toward the lab. "…would either be similar to something they've already_ got_ for Fitz or too much of a risk to use. A new drug needs to be tested, go to trials and at the very _least_ it would take two months before being approved for human trials and then there's still rating how well it did… It's not as simple as testing it out on a person and hoping it works. Besides, it's not like we're talking about healing a leg or an arm, this is the brain and whatever drug Simmons uses on him would probably do more harm than good." Trip ended his explanation looking at the medical room.

"The best thing for Fitz is for him to heal on his own, he'll have complications... when he wakes up, but he'll pull through." Trip finished with a confident nod. Skye wasn't all too sure, she would just wait and see and hope for the best, but she was also prepared for the worst, or at least as prepared as someone could be for receiving the 'ole "I'm sorry for your loss". She got used to being let down whenever she was certain or hopeful – thanks to recent events - , but at the same time, she knew that having no hope at all could destroy someone… so she preferred to keep her mind open, even if it meant considering something she would have preferred to deem impossible.

"We need to talk to Simmons." Trip looked at Skye and saw that the resolve in her voice extended to the look on her face. He looked at her with uncertainty.

"Good luck…" He began.

"I mean…" Skye said at the same time. Trip stopped talking to give Skye the chance to continue.

"We can't do _anything_ for Fitz…" She gestured to the medical room. "…but we _need_ to do something for Simmons, at least _say _something."

"It's not like I haven't tried…" Said Trip, shaking his head. "… but every time I go to talk to her she apologizes and says she's busy." Skye rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you too?" She said in a humorously annoyed sort of way.

"_'__Oh, I'm sorry Skye I'm too busy with my science to talk to you!'_" She said in an English accent as she waved her hands around. Trip nodded soberly.

"Yeah that's-" He interrupted himself and looked at Skye with a disapproving expression.

"…that's a terrible accent." Skye gave a small laugh and slapped him softly on his arm.

"Shut up."

Trip couldn't help but laugh a slight bit at her reaction. Skye put her hand on her chin in a thinking pose.

"Maybe we could gang up on her." Trip looked at her incredulously.

"If she didn't feel comfortable about talking to us before what makes you think that _'ganging up on her'_ will make a difference?" Skye shrugged.

"That way she can't avoid us." She said with a smirk.

* * *

It had been eleven days since everything happened. Eleven days without Fitz. It really wasn't as bad as it seemed; eleven days wasn't much, but the thought that it wouldn't be _just_ eleven days; _that _thought was scary. In the first day it just wouldn't sink in - not completely – she had sat near him – he was in the decompression chamber – waiting for him to wake up, but it felt so surreal, like _she_ would wake up instead.

Of course sitting around and waiting wasn't enough, she wanted to help the doctors, be a part of whatever treatment they were giving him, be able to give suggestions at least and at most…she wanted to _be_ oneof the doctors, but they kept throwing her out of the loop. All day, they had hardly answered her questions, they wouldn't listen to her, they wouldn't let her get involved; something about her personal feelings getting in the way; that's ridiculous, she took care of Skye just fine! She had become impatient and downright pissed. She knew that they wouldn't let her be an active doctor - that was a lost cause - , so she decided to go about it in a different way. She wasn't going to ask any more for the doctors to listen to her, she would demand it; she wasn't going to speak calmly with them, she was going to argue; she was going to battle it out until they include her in on what was going on and on the decision making.

The results of battling it out were better than she expected, in just one conversation – that included a lot of angry shouting – she convinced them and Director Coulson to let her act as Fitz's personal doctor – _technically_ she was, since she was the only doctor on the team, which meant she was medically responsible for everyone on it –, in other words she called the shots, everything that would happen to him had to be reported to her and anything that would be done to him depended on her approval.

The crying started on the second day. She was fine, she had been fine; Fitz was ok or well…stable. She was in the secret bases' "uber-secret kitchen" – as Skye liked to call it – sitting down with a mug of coffee in her hand – with her arms and the mug set on top of the kitchen table – looking across at Skye as she filled Jemma in on exactly what happened at Cybertech. Jemma had nodded, relieved that everything went ok, Garrett was gone for good, Deathlock was no longer in his command, Mike's son was ok, Ward was captured and everyone made it out unscathed, except for Fitz, but she avoided thinking about Fitz.

Her heart was weary but she was fine, Skye's company helped, a lot, so did Trip's and Coulson's and even May's. Simmons preferred Skye's company though, there was something easier about talking to Skye; May didn't talk much, or…well…at all, Coulson did but he had just become the _Director_ of SHIELD so it was hard to talk to him without the sense that she was holding him up (even if she wasn't) and Trip…she liked talking to Trip, but she didn't know him all that well, he didn't know Fitz that well either so it was hard to bond over him and he was a guy; in her moments of vulnerability she preferred being with women – with the exception of Fitz, obviously -, May, for all her silence, was a more preferable company choice than Trip and Coulson, for the exact opposite reason Skye was; she didn't speak and so Simmons wasn't obligated to either. So she had two choices when she was feeling especially lonely, if she wanted safety she would go to May, if she wanted comfort she would go to Skye. Right then she had wanted comfort.

And she was alright, she swore, the conversation was going well and Simmons had managed to calm down after helping Fitz through his seizure. Skye had changed the subject to how strange the Playground was and Simmons had added by commenting on the parallels between it and Providence, not to mention the Koenigs… Skye mentioned her theory about Nick Fury having multiple secret bases, each equipped with its own Koenig; Simmons even laughed at the absurdity of that. Then she looked down at her coffee mug, with the intention of drinking it, and was reminded of every single night she stayed up in the lab with a coffee mug and Fitz right beside her and she started to cry. She cried because of a coffee mug. A _coffee mug_; how stupid. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed into them; Skye was there in an instant and then she sobbed on Skye's shoulder and for the following three days it was like that. She would cry for some stupid reason – a comment, a thought, an object – and someone would show up to comfort her. The two days after that she was still crying – in fact, she had probably cried more than in those past four days combined – but she didn't want company. While she was quiet and composed when she was with other people, as soon as she was alone she would cry, whether it was because she was sad or in pain or angry; she would cry.

After six days of crying, four seeking out comfort and two in her own company, she was tired. She was tired of crying and she was tired of talking, she didn't have anything left in her to do either one of those things, she needed to be alone, just her, no crying, no talking, no thinking unnecessary things. So she decided to keep herself busy in the lab and for three days after that she did. It was currently the fourth day of her solitude.

She was carrying a petri dish – that held a bluish liquid – to the main table of the lab and placed it right next to the microscope. Simmons liked working on that table since it was right in front of the door, which, by the way, she kept open, _at __all__ times_. It was a privileged position: right across the hall, to the right, was Fitz. If anything happened to him she was close enough to respond quickly. She was thankful the doctors had their own lab, which meant she got this one all to herself. It was smaller, but it was closer to Fitz and that was what really mattered.

She was in front of the microscope reaching for the dropper pipet. With her left hand she held the petri dish steady and with her right she drew the pipet towards the liquid, but she stopped a centimeter from it. Her breathing hitched and for a few moments she had the same sensation as when she was stuck in the decompression chamber, like she needed to escape, to get out of there, only this time was worse, it was accompanied by a deep feeling of despair, after all, the only place she was trapped in at the moment was her own reality and there was no escape from that.

She forced herself to focus on the blue liquid in the petri dish. Yes, most likely it was the one thing that could keep her from cracking. She swallowed and forced her breathing to steady. She drew the pipet nearer to the liquid; she was going to finish this, it would be hard with her hand shaking like that, but she was going to do this. She was so concentrated, in fact, that she didn't even notice the faint footsteps of Agent Triplett entering the lab or the quiet footsteps of Skye following close behind.

Skye, not being one for subtleties, decided to call upon the attention of her friend.

"Simmons." It was enough for said friend to drop whatever weird chemical she was working with on the table.

Simmons bit her upper lip in frustration and clenched her hands into fists that she kept at her side. She clenched her jaws and while her head stayed fixed toward the direction of the spilt blue liquid, her eyes came up to meet Skye's. Skye drew up two hands.

"Sorry." She didn't look the least bit apologetic. _Its ok_, thought Simmons, _its ok, I have more_. She made her way to the left side of the room. One of the tables there had two other petri dishes with the same substance. It would be fine, or rather; it should have been if there weren't an object blocking her path towards the table. She looked up to see Trip standing in front of her. She tried to make her way around him, but as it seemed he was deliberately blocking her path. She looked at him in confusion and he responded with an apologetic expression. Simmons backed up a bit from Trip; she sensed the intervention even before Skye said her next words.

"We need to talk..." _Of course, _thought Simmons, but she ignored Skye and started to make her way towards the main table. She knew that the petri dish on it had just enough liquid left for her to at least be able to analyze in the microscope. She could do the rest after she was granted access to the other two petri dishes.

"…and this time you can't avoid it because…" Skye pointed to Trip and herself. "…we're ganging up on you." Simmons stopped at the edge of the main table and gave Skye a sarcastic expression that said "like that's going to make a difference", before continuing on towards the petri dish. Trip looked at Skye and mouthed the words "told you" and Skye replied with an "I got this covered" look.

Simmons began manipulating the blue liquid, preparing to put it for observation on the microscope, Skye had both her arms on top of the same table as she leaned forward on it and Trip was standing in the left side of the room with his arms crossed.

"I've _seriously forgotten _what you voice sounds like!" Simmons looked at Skye skeptically.

"Fine, I haven't, but I will, it's only a matter of time." Simmons didn't respond to this, but Skye did manage to grab her attention. Now was her chance to talk because _finally_ Simmons was willing to listen. Skye pulled a black lab stool from underneath the table and sat down, laying her arms on the table.

"Look, I've heard _May_ speak more than you have these past few days, _that's_ pretty worrisome." Simmons took a deep breath and looked at her friend with a look bordering between tired and sympathetic.

"Skye I'm fine."

"No, you're _not_!" Said Skye in frustration and the room became dangerously quiet.

"And that's ok." The hacker said in a softer tone as she continued.

"It's ok, not to be ok. It's _fine_, it's just… You need to know that it's also ok to cry about it and to talk to us." She pointed to her and Trip.

"Talk to Coulson…talk to _May…_ if you want. Just don't…don't keep it to yourself."

Simmons looked at Skye somberly, her exhaustion reflecting on her face and in her eyes.

"I'm tired of crying." She said quietly. She shook her head and added in an almost inaudible tone, "And I'm tired of talking." She looked at Skye, but avoided looking into her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She said as she went back to manipulating the blue liquid. Skye nodded slowly keeping her facial expression at a blank.

"So… what are you working on?" She said trying to keep her voice steady. Simmons swallowed and looked at Skye. Despite all of her teammate's efforts to hide it, she could still see the trace of hope that outlined Skye's features. Simmons turned slightly to look at Trip; his expression was no different. They were both patiently waiting for her to talk; silently hoping for it, but she didn't have much to say. Telling them what she was doing, though, she could do that, at least.

"Fitz and I talked about trying to replicate the dendrotoxin grenades that Cybertech created…I'm creating different solutions…" She stopped talking; she knew her voice would crack if she continued. The truth was she didn't believe Fitz would ever be able to work on those.

"Fitz is going to wake up; he's going to be ok." Said Trip walking closer to the table Simmons was working on. Simmons looked at Trip like a mother about to tell her son his father wasn't coming back.

"You know the odds Triplett…" Simmons was going to elaborate, but she saw Skye at the corner of her eyes and remembered that she _didn't_ know the odds, she didn't know that the fact that Fitz being in a coma for more than a week wasn't promising; she didn't know how his brain activity hadn't shown any progress or signs that he would wake up; she didn't know how the more time it took him to wake up, the less chance he would have of regaining control of his brain; she didn't know how he might _never_ wake up. She didn't know… and she looked like she had already lost some of her hope in the world, Simmons didn't want to make it worse. As for Trip: he _did_ know the odds, why he was so hopeful was beyond her. Maybe it was because he didn't know Fitz that well and so he wasn't as affected by the impact of the current situation; not that she could blame him or anything, in the same way that she was sad about Eric Koenig's death, but more sad about Fitz's state; she didn't know Eric that well, but Fitz… Fitz was family.

There was another moment of silence. Trip and Skye had gotten what they wanted: Simmons' attention, but Trip still meant what he said: "ganging up on her" might get Simmons to pay attention to them, but it wasn't going to get her to talk. He knew that Simmons needed to be alone with only one of them if there was going to be any chance of her actually coming out of her shell. He also knew that she needed to eat; he figured this was a great moment to hit two birds with one stone.

"Simmons…" He paused, thinking of a way to tell her she needed to eat without outright saying it. "…I'm going to the kitchen to grab a snack, you want anything?" He said giving her a pleading look.

"I'm not very hungry." She said apologetically.

"How about a cup of hot chocolate then?" His insistence actually earned him a small smile from Simmons.

"Alright."

Trip made his way to leave the room, but not before looking at Skye with an expression that she interpreted as "good luck".

There was a moment of silence as the sound of Trip's footsteps slowly faded. Jemma went back to taking care of her dendrotoxin, but kept some of her attention on Skye. The bio-chemist leaned in on the microscope to have a better look at the bluish liquid.

"You know…" Skye said quietly. "I'm not sure if Fitz is going to be ok…" She admitted. "…but I don't feel like you think he's going to be ok at all…?" Jemma lifted her eyes from the eyepiece of the microscope and turned her head so that she could see Skye through her peripheral vision; she didn't say anything but the way her expression hardened pretty much answered the hacker's question. Skye gave a small and sad laugh.

"I thought you were working on some sort of miracle drug for Fitz." She said as if the very thought were ridiculous. Simmons shook her head.

"Fitz is in a delicate situation… I can't do anything for him… nothing that won't be too risky… or to useless." Her voice was so subdued, so different from the normal Jemma, thought Skye. The hacker nodded.

"You've done all you could." Skye wasn't sure, but she felt like she saw a crack in Jemma's barrier.

"I'm _doing_ all I can, but still, for some reason I feel useless, like I haven't done anything." Three more cracks.

"You saved Fitz's life." Her barrier was about to shatter. Jemma inhaled, she opened her mouth to say something and Skye knew it was going to be important. Simmons' mind raced back to the last time she said it, _"It was the other way around." _Could she say it again? She hadn't told anyone else since.

"N-" But she was interrupted by the sound of several people running down the hall. It only took them a split second to realize it was the doctors running toward Fitz's room; something must have happened. Both women looked at each other in alarm before running out of the lab and joining the doctors in the hall.

* * *

**Alright! There you have it. Sorry for the late update, next chapter probably won't take as long :) So what did you guys think? And what are your guesses on what's up with Fitz?**


	5. Chapter 5

**M.R.P.**

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you." said the older woman. Phil Coulson rubbed his forehead as he looked at the speaker on his desk. His team was hit hard by the recent events; each member dealing with their own huge sense of loss, one of them was in a coma suffering from brain damage. Phil Coulson the new director of SHIELD had to somehow put it back together, his obstacles included: his wounded team, Hydra, the lack of resources, the lack of allies, the lack of immediate members, the lack of light in his _damn_ office, Eric _Billy_ Koenig's rules and regulations for the Playground (he's the director, couldn't he override those? And Playground was honestly just a _cruel_ name...) and _now_ he had to deal with _this_. Why weren't things going right, or at least going right without a catch?

"I know it's a lot to ask, but your agency is currently the only one we have contact with and we need the support of at least one… if-"

"It's not that we don't want your agency back, _believe_ me, but while I do trust you and your intentions I don't believe anyone from my agency will have an open mind about it."

"And there's no way you can convince them?" asked May, as objective as ever.

"Not without a bargaining chip."

"A bargaining chip?" repeated the director.

"Yes, something you can give for us to hold on to during negotiations-"

"As a trust mechanism?" Coulson interrupted; _there's the catch_.

"More or less. It needs to be something valuable… for it to work and I'm very particular about bargaining chips; if it's not useful to me then I'm not interested." Coulson and May glanced at each other before turning their attentions back to the phone. For a moment - that felt way too long to have been only a few seconds - the Director went through his options and chose his next words carefully.

"What about information?" He phrased slowly.

"Information that we don't already have access to?"

"Yes."

"I'm not interested." Coulson frowned at this; she didn't even hear him out, and why not? She had nothing to lose, except time, but- _time_… she'd been pushing this conversation to a closure since it began, was she in a rush? May seemed to pick up on it as well because she was giving him the same questioning look.

Melinda May certainly thought it was strange, not that the woman in question was exactly a patient one, but she was never one to rush things, not for the for very long time she had known her.

"The last thing I need is to have to deal with more information and more problems from your agency, quite frankly, my agency isn't prepared to deal with half of them, if you have more keep it to yourself." There was a pause where they assumed she was waiting for them to speak and since they didn't she continued.

"Because I want your agency back I'll tell you this much: the best sort of bargaining chip is something that can be returned, _information_ can't be."

"What about a tool or a weapon?" Director Coulson wasn't sure he'd like giving up any of their tools and weapons. In a general sense, the more valuable it was the more dangerous it would be to give to someone else, but then again, that was the point of a bargaining chip, that way both parties would be put in a position of vulnerability. He would have to think carefully on what to use though.

"Yes. _Unfortunately_ I don't have time to keep talking to you, so think it through and call me when you think you have something valuable that might be useful to me."

"And what exactly do you define as useful to you?" asked the director. There was a pause before she answered.

"Do you have anything that can cure an alien virus?" Agent May and Director Coulson looked at each other quizzically.

"What alien virus?" He answered immediately and when all he got was silence for a response he decided to elaborate.

"Does it make people float?" A few more seconds of silence passed before he got his answer.

"Yes…" The older woman said cautiously. May and Coulson looked at each other, each with a foreboding expression.

"We've dealt with that virus before… you haven't found any information on it?" _All of SHIELD's secrets should have been leaked, or most of them anyway, she should have access to this information_, thought Coulson.

"No nothing."

"Have you searched under the name FZZT?" The woman didn't respond, but they heard several _clicks_ that sounded like typing. Coulson continued, "The scientific term for it is-"

"I found it."

"The cure should be there-"

"It's not, only the name and the scientific term." Coulson stared at the machine in disbelief.

"There must be some mistake, I saw the file, and it had a complete report on all the cases…"

"Then someone wiped it." The older woman answered.

Who would have wiped it, for what purposes, thought Coulson? Agent May looked at him.

"If the wrong people reached it…" _Hydra_. They were avoiding using any names while they were on the phone for precaution – even though it was fairly obvious that they had to be SHIELD – but of course that's what May had meant.

"Either way, the one who concocted the cure was one of my scientists, I'll see if she has it on board-" Coulson stopped talking when he saw May's expression.

"She only made one." _And she used it on herself._

"Maybe she made more." He said.

"Maybe." answered May.

Director Coulson knew that at that moment his main priority was to contain the virus – to protect people -, but he was no saint either; he would grab any opportunity he had to rebuild SHIELD.

"Could we use that as a bargaining chip?"

"No. I told you it needs to be something we can return." Well it was worth a shot, thought Phil.

"That's fine, we'll give it to you anyway, our main priority is to avoid an epidemic." Phil Coulson was greeted by silence that chilled his very bones.

"How bad is it?" he asked with a grim tone. The silence he received chilled him even more. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the woman answered.

"Let's just say I _need_ that cure. You're sure you have it?"

"We had it, I don't know if we have another…" He looked at May who looked at him skeptically.

"Most likely we don't." he finished.

"But this scientist of yours…can make another?"

"Yes, with access to the virus."

"So you want to bring her here?"Absolutely _not_, thought the director.

"I was thinking more along the line of you bringing her the supplies she needs so she can make it here."

"I don't have access to those supplies and we're trying to keep the virus contained, bringing it out isn't an option. Bringing the scientist here won't work either; no one would trust her enough to let her work on this. Unless she can lie well enough to convince them she's an ex-agent…?"

"Probably not." Said the director.

"That won't work." May said simultaneously.

"Then there's a third option, we can use her as a bargaining chip. We'll tell them she's there to find a cure for the virus as a pretense to use her for negotiation." May widened her eyes as she realized the plan behind doing this, she wasn't sure Coulson would like the idea, she wasn't sure _she_ liked the idea, but it was flawless in theory.

"But what we're really doing is getting her to recreate the cure." May finished. Coulson looked positively confused.

"But we'll _actually_ be using her for negotiations." He objected.

"Exactly." Came the woman's voice from the speaker. Was Phil the only one who thought that didn't make any sense? He rubbed his temple and said slowly.

"So what you're saying is…we _pretend_ that we're going to use her to get the cure to _pretend_ that she's a bargaining chip, to _actually_ use her to get the cure and _actually_ use her as a bargaining chip?"

"That's the idea." said May. Was Coulson going crazy? Ok, well, he knew for a fact he was, but crazy or not this just made _no_ sense. He looked from May to the machine in bewilderment. May decided to explain.

"Our goal would be to stop the virus, using her as a form of negotiation is an excuse towards that end, using her to cure the virus is the excuse behind that excuse. While the agency thinks we're taking her to produce the cure as an excuse to negotiate with them, we'll actually be negotiating with them as an excuse to let her make the cure. Being able to actually negotiate is the bonus behind this situation; there's nothing more convincing for a fake negotiation then a real one." Director Coulson couldn't believe he was nodding at this absurdity.

"I'm going to think about it..." He said automatically. "…but I'll get back to you on that."

"Don't take too long; remember there are lives on the line." And the phone clicked.

Director Coulson looked at May with his head tilted and his eyebrows raised in a dumbfounded way.

"She's a hard person to negotiate with." He said comically.

"She always has been."

"Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all." Melinda May gave him a scolding look.

"I'm kidding, I know you don't like being compared to your mother." He said with a half-smile.

Slowly his smile dissipated and for a moment nothing was said.

"You realize you don't have a choice?" May finally broke the silence.

"I know." He said with his hands folded near his mouth.

"But I can't make Jemma do it, not the way she is now. If I force her to- She needs to make the decision by herself." He concluded. May nodded.

"This isn't going to be another episode like the hub, I'm going to tell her exactly what she's going to get herself into and if she refuses than it's probably because she wouldn't be able to do it anyway."

"But the virus needs to be taken care of." May stated.

"I know, is it weird that I think she's going to accept?"

"No." May affirmed.

"I think-" But he was interrupted by the lights in the office, which had all unexpectedly turned on. May and Coulson looked at the lights in confusion, blinking several times so that they could accustom to it.

The door to the office creaked open and a familiar face peaked through.

"Hey, sorry about that." said agent Koenig in his usual excited tone.

"I was just making sure I fixed the lights, it was something to do with the wiring, well, it wasn't that hard..." He said in a way that showed he expected to be praised, but no one said anything and he felt the heavy atmosphere…

"I interrupted something didn't I?" He asked

Coulson answered with a sympathetic smile that basically said "yes".

Billy frowned and nodded, he gave them a sad look.

"Then I'm not sure it's a good time to tell you this, but I just thought you'd want to know… Agent Fitz had another seizure, just a few moments ago. I found out on my way here..."

Coulson nodded and looked at May. Both of their jaws clenched and their expressions only grew darker.

"We'll continue this conversation later."

* * *

**Alright, there you have it! No Fitz or Simmons... again. But this was an important turn of events and I'm pretty sure you guys know where I'm going with this (where's the evil emoticon when I need it?) or not. Kudos to anyone who can figure out what the title stands for, I'll give a hint next chapter and kudos if you figured out ahead of time that the person they were speaking to was agent May's mom! **

**Thanks to all you guys who have reviewed my story so far, it really makes my day, in fact it makes any writer's day; so remember if you read a story that you like make sure you comment on it (and I don't ****just ****mean mine), it'll take less than five minutes and I know I speak for all the writers when I say that we really appreciate it! Oh yeah and next chapter there will definitely be Fitz and Simmons so prepare yourselves!**


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